


Battlefield Confessions

by kaclydid



Series: Writings from the Wood [6]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Love, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 04:38:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13000032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaclydid/pseuds/kaclydid
Summary: tumblr request: Bofur x Human!Reader.Bofur tries to confess feeling for the reader during the BoTFA but keeps running into obstacles.





	Battlefield Confessions

Through the travels, you had made both friends and enemies - although enemies seemed to be dispatched rather quickly. Within the company of Thorin Oakenshield, you counted everyone as part of your family. True, you were but a human, but you could hold your own, and on a few occasions during some downtime at camp, you had even bested Fili and Kili in a fight. 

You also seemed to be the only one capable of quieting an argument. If Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin heard you raise your voice from behind them, they would nod, let you speak, and carry on their conversation. Oin valued your skills in medicine and bandaging. You had shown provinciency in cooking on a number of occasions. And, you held your sword and shield as if they didn’t weigh more than you did, feet not faltering as you slashed and sidestepped around attacks.

Bofur folded his hands over the blunt pommel of the warhammer he had picked up in the Troll’s cave, taking a breather as he reached the open air once more. His gaze was focused on you, a fond smile on his features as he watched you compare swords and hilts with the others. 

Turning back to the cave, starting in for the next handful of useful weapons Gandalf had in his arms, you noticed Bofur. “Something in my hair?” you asked jokingly, pushing a strand behind your ear. 

“No,” Bofur answered with a shake of his head, letting the warhammer fall to the dirt as he stepped away from it rather quickly, pretending to be going back to work. “Just … a bit of fresh air,” he added, turning away from you to work.

Out of all of the company, you found fast friends in Bilbo, who loved your stories of your travels. Felt as if Kili and Fili were your own brothers as you sparred with them or walked alongside them, laughing and joking as if you had known them for years. 

But Bofur … He couldn’t hold a conversation with you longer than a few minutes. Would tug anxiously at his hat as he noticed your attention turning to him from across the camp. He would try to joke with you, but the smile you would grant in return from a joke or jest would buckle his knees and butterflies would appear in his chest.

Granted, you weren’t much better. You had learned to curb your emotions through years of training as a knight. You had an uncanny ability to make friends rather easily, and on those occasions where there was a dour mood, you had been told your smile warmed the room. And you smiled a lot when Bofur wasn’t looking.  
As you watched the orc horde on that fateful day standing on the gate overlooking the meadows between Dale and Erebor, you gulped, fist tightening on the hilt of your sword as you stood beside Bofur and Dwalin. 

“I did not sign up for this,” you caught yourself mumbling, eyes wide as the human and elven armies below started to fight. 

The two dwarves beside you laughed. “None of us did, lass,” Bofur supplied. 

You glanced down to him as he happened to look up and smiled. You were rather short, for a paladin, but you used it to your advantage. Smiling kindly down to Bofur you nodded. “We should do something, don’t you think?” you asked, turning your gaze back to the battle before you. 

The battle waged. You were tired, covered in blood - thankfully mostly orc blood - and you had lost your preferred sword a while back, instead fighting with an orc blade you had to use two hands to swing. Bofur had stayed near you, back to back as you fought, clearing an area before moving on to attack more. 

For a moment, Bofur stood there as the last orc near the two of you fell to the ground. “Great fighting, lass,” he started, turning around to where you had been standing, “I --” At noticing you were no longer beside him, he froze, gaze shifting to the battle around him.

“Bofur!” you called, using the momentum of the orc’s swing to disarm him and drive a shorter blade into its belly. “Could really use some help!” 

Bofur nodded, but wasn’t able to make it over to you. A group of elves and dwarves from the Iron Hills started, converging on your location and effectively taking care of the orcs surrounding you. Bofur fought alongside them, trying to get back to your side. 

“Y/N!” he tried, ducking under a swing and kicking the orc’s knee out from under him. “Where are ye lass!?” 

Finally he noticed you, a few yards in front of him, a new weapon in hand as you stood atop a rock, fighting off one of the smaller orcs as it scrambled up to you. “She’s … lovely,” he noticed aloud, and the laugh that came from behind him was deep and menacing. The orc raised its sword as Bofur turned around, just barely deflecting the blow as an arrow struck in the orc’s head from behind. 

“Bofur!” You called again, scrambling off the rock as you noticed the dwarf stagger back from the orc. Running to his side, you placed a hand on his shoulder, making sure he was alright. 

“Lass!” he smiled brightly, turning to look up at you. “You’re wonderful, did you know that?”

“Bofur, I don’t believe now is the most appropriate,” you started, turning to look out at the battle. “There’s too many.”

Bofur opened his mouth to speak, only managing a meak “I --” before you had run off, sliding to your knees and cutting up into an orc’s stomach. 

You pulled yourself to your knees and turned to see Bofur fighting his way towards you, his lips moving as if he was complaining to the orcs he was fighting. You noticed Dwalin near him, laughing heartily as his axe met an orc’s head. You wondered briefly what he might be laughing at before stretching out your shoulder and starting forward the two dwarves. 

“Tell her,” Dwalin grunted as he swung his axe. 

“She takes the words from me,” Bofur confessed. “I’m lost in her laugh and eyes.”

You watched as Dwalin’s large frame turned, leaving Bofur to defend behidn his back. They were still speaking, well, mostly Bofur was speaking, and as you heard your voice, you stopped. 

For a moment the battle seemed to stop as well as you heard Bofur’s confession as he killed the orc. He stood a moment, taking a deep breath as he looked down to the dead enemy and then back up to noticed Dwalin a few more feet away than he had been.

“Did you mean that?” you asked, stepping over the rocks and bodies on the grass. 

He froze, but turned, smiling genuinely up to you. “Lass, I --”

“Did you mean that?” you asked, smiling slightly. “Does that orc take your breath away and make you laugh and flush when you meet its eye?” you joked, pointing to the creature with your sword.

Bofur chuckled. “There’s only one who does that, lass,” he started, picking another sword from the ground to keep his gaze on anything else. 

“Good,” you smiled. “Because I feel the same.”

The dwarf’s gaze flew up to yours, and you smiled, a flush painting your cheeks beneath the grime and blood covering your cheeks. “Lass, I --”

“Let’s hold off on the actual confession until I’m sure we’re both still breathing, alright?” you asked, and as he nodded, you bent a bit to press a kiss to his cheek. “Stay alive.”


End file.
